


Big Iron

by ValiantOrange



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, Rape gets mentioned in Chapter 6, Spaghetti Western, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValiantOrange/pseuds/ValiantOrange
Summary: After a ruthless bandit named Gabriel Reyes kills her father, Hana Song sets off for revenge. Along the way she encounters two others who have history with the bandit, and the three of them form a posse to bring Talon to justice.





	1. Her Headstrong Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana travels to the town of Agua Fria to resolve her father's unfinished business.

In the summer of 1873 Chan-woo Song was gunned down in the town of Agua Fria, Arizona. It isn’t known what caused his quarrel with the man Gabriel Reyes. In fact word around town was that the two had met on account of Song’s gunsmithing business, and that Reyes had been looking to purchase some new arms.

All that is known is that around noon on a Sunday Reyes and his gang opened fire on Song’s store, before looting every last dollar they could find and burning the building down. Nobody in the town so much as lifted a finger as the Talon gang fled. In fact, they could’ve saved their energy and walked out, for all the town cared.

Agua Fria’s sheriff salvaged what he could from the wreckage, and the property was auctioned off. The proceeds of the sale went to the sheriff’s office, which paid for Song’s burial behind the town’s church. Nobody in the town knew if Song had anyone who would want to attend his funeral, so only the sheriff and priest were present when he was laid to rest.

Then the town went about its business, forgetting that there’d even been a Korean man living in Agua Fria. Nobody in the town knew that Chan-woo had a daughter, and even if they had known, none would have wagered that she’d make the journey from Philadelphia to New York so she could board a train to California.  

And so, two months to the day after her father was killed, Hana Song arrived in the town of Agua Fria.

________________________________________

Will Knotts hadn’t known what to make of the young girl currently asleep in the back of his wagon. She’d approached him in San Francisco, asking if he was making his way down to Arizona. When he said yes she offered him five dollars to take her to the town of Agua Fria, located a hundred miles north of Tuscon. Once their negotiation was finished, the girl introduced herself then didn’t say another word; instead cooping herself up in the back of his wagon and occupying herself with her book, a thick tome called The Elements. Still, she’d paid him upfront and had brought her own rations, so he couldn’t complain.

“Miss Song?” he called back into the cart as they passed the town’s borders. “Miss Song, we’ve arrived,” he said a bit louder.

Hana came to, wiping sweat from her brow. She coughed as she reached around for her flask of water, “My thanks Mr. Knotts. Should we part ways here?” She found the water and drank deeply.

“I can take you somewhere if you’d like ma’am.”

Hana sat up, making sure her belongings were around her, “If you could, I’d like to be dropped off at the sheriff’s office.” Hana stood up slowly, making sure to brace herself, and moved to the back of the wagon, looking at the town as they passed. Agua Fria could best be described as a single street, with everything located around the church. To the church’s left was the sheriff’s office, and to the right was the school. And across the street was the town’s most important building, except on Sundays, of course: the Saloon.

The wagon rattled to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office, and Hana hopped out, suitcase in hand. Dust kicked up into the air as she hit the ground, though Hana didn’t pay it much heed as she set the suitcase down. She had managed to fit her entire life into one case, a feat she’d found to be depressingly easy to accomplish. Hana currently had on her Sunday best, though she wore it like someone foreign to the idea of being one’s best on a Sunday. Her hair was tied back into braids, and she wore a wide brimmed hat to protect herself from the sun.

As the wagon pulled away she waved, wishing Mr. Knotts the best of luck on his future endeavors. Once he was out of earshot she turned to the sheriff’s office, a stone building with a single square window cut out, and knocked on the door. After a few seconds of waiting she raised her fist to knock again as the door opened, revealing a heavyset man who looked to be in his 50s. He wore a jacket over a white shirt, and had a blue bolo tie which hung above his gut. His face was red from the heat, and sweat dripped down onto his white mustache, which was the only hair Hana could see on his head.

Hana extended a hand, “I’m Hana Song, daughter of Chan-woo Song, I presume you’re the sheriff of this town?”

The sheriff looked at Hana’s hand then back up to her before shaking it, “Yes, yes. I’m Sheriff Parker.” He glanced back into the office, then looked around the town nervously, “Why don’t you come in.”

The office consisted of a fine wooden desk, with a bottle of whiskey and a stack of papers on top of it.  Behind the chair was a safe, and across from the desk was the sheriff’s cell, which currently had a man asleep in it.

“Pay him no mind, he was just too drunk to find his house last night,” Sheriff Parker moved back behind his desk, fishing out a paper fan from a drawer and fanning himself. Hana pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Parker made a show of using his free hand to sort through the papers, eventually pulling out a small stack, “Daughter of Mr. Song was it,” he hummed under his breath, “Okay, Hannah-“

“It’s Hana, though Miss Song will suffice if you please,” Hana said. She pulled her chair up and scooted closer to the desk, “And before we proceed I’d like to know why nothing was done to bring my father’s killers to justice. Why haven’t you rounded up a posse? There are many fine men in this town, and I’m sure my father did his best to ensure they were all armed.”

Parker narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat, “Very well, Miss Song,” he said, almost hissing her name, “Do you know who shot your father?”

“Why yes I do, which is why I wonder why nothing has been done about it. Word was that the Talon gang killed him,” Hana sat up straight in her chair, keeping her voice level.

“Miss Song,” Sheriff Parker drew himself up, matching Hana’s posture, “The people in this town wouldn’t go after the Talon gang if they gunned down the President of the United States, let alone some Chinaman they-“

“Korean,” Hana interjected, “My father and I are Korean, not Chinese.”

“Very well,” Parker took a deep breath, “Let alone some Korean they barely knew.”

“Then might I ask why no effort was made to contact me?” Hana reached down into her case and pulled out a stack of papers, “Why was it the first word I heard of my father’s passing was due to him missing the payment for my tuition at the University?” She laid the papers down on the desk.

Parker glanced down at the desk, “Miss Song, we did not contact you because we did not know that you existed. And I’m finding your tone rather vexing; you would do well to pay me some respect.”

“I pay you the same respect you afforded my father, Sheriff,” Hana slid the papers to Parker, “Fortunately my father anticipated this and had a lawyer draft a will. I’m here to collect my father’s belongings, make sure his body is sent back to Korea and to settle any unfinished business he has.”

“Send his body back to Korea? We’ve already buried him, how can you do that?”

“I imagine a shovel must have been used to dig his grave, we can use that same shovel to dig it back up.”

Sheriff Parker slammed his fist on the desk, “You will do no such thing. Digging up a grave in the middle of town? Have you no sense of decency?”

“Sheriff Parker, it would behoove you to maintain your composure. We have much business we need to attend to,” Hana tapped the papers, “My father had two hundred and thirty five dollars in cash on his property, along with another one thousand and fifty dollars’ worth of assets. And this isn’t even including the price of the property itself, nor his horse. Might I ask you to procure his belongings, along with the deed to the property so I can sell it.”

“The killers took his cash, and I’m afraid we’ve already sold the property, and used the proceeds to pay for his burial.”

“I find myself doubting that he was given a funeral so lavish as to cost an entire building to finance,” Hana leaned forward, “I am the legal owner of that building and anything that was in it, and I intend to collect my new belongings before I depart. Now, regarding the theft of my father’s money; I believe that retrieving this money is the responsibility of this town’s peacekeeper, Sheriff Parker.”

Parker sputtered, looking between Hana and the man asleep in the cell, “I will do no such thing. My duty is to keep the peace in this town, not to go off on a suicide mission to avenge some dead Chinaman.”

“Korean, Sheriff Parker, “Hana pushed the papers closer to him, “And I suggest your tone finds a touch more respect, unless you wish for me to take this to the courts of law.”

Parker picked up the papers and studied them, clearing his throat loudly. After some time, he slowly lowered the papers, scowling as he realized her legal precedence. “I am afraid I do not have the current funds to reimburse you for your father’s property, Miss Song.”

“That is fine; you can pay in installments, with no interest. We can sign some paperwork and mail it to my lawyer.”

“That’s very gracious of you,” Parker turned to the safe and started opening it, “Your father had a gun on him, along with a hat, when he was killed. I can give you those.”

Hana nodded, “And his body?”

Parker growled, “I’ll have one of my boys dig it up tonight, and have it shipped to California. You can have it sent to Korea from there.” He pulled out the hat and gun, putting them down next to Hana’s papers. “A fine piece, that one,” he gestured towards the gun, “Looks custom made.”

Hana pulled it up, inspecting it. “Looks like it fires 45s,” she set it down, “He must’ve been modifying his Colt Single Action Army,” Hana’s gaze returned to Parker, “And what of his horse?”

Parker let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave a pleading glance at the man asleep in the cell before looking back at Hana, “I am afraid I’ve no idea.”

Hana looked back at her father’s gun, “Then you can start settling your debt with me by purchasing me a horse, along with a belt for that gun.”

The sheriff scoffed, “A belt for the gun? What does a girl need with a belt for a gun?”

“Well, Mister Parker,” Hana said, “I intend to put that belt around my waist, holster my father’s gun and use the horse you’re about to buy me to ride out and find this Talon gang. I did say I was here to settle my father’s unfinished business.”

Parker looked at Hana’s stern expression, and started to laugh as he realized she was serious. “With all due respect, Miss Song, I cannot give much credence to the notion that a girl of nineteen will be able to survive out there in the Sonoran desert, let alone hunt down a ruthless gang of killers.”

“Folks didn’t give much credence to the notion that a Korean girl would be able to study mathematics at the University of Pennsylvania, yet a bit over two months ago I happened to be in a classroom at that very university. You will get me my holster, you will get me some ammunition, and you will find me a horse.” Hana grabbed her papers and turned to leave, “Oh, and one more thing.”

Sheriff Parker glared at Hana, “What?”

“Where can I stay around here?”

________________________________________

Hana sat on the side of the bed in the room she’d rented at the saloon. Two days had passed since she’d first arrived in town, and most her time had been spent in the sheriff’s office ensuring that he didn’t attempt to cross her. Finally, all the papers had been signed and mailed to her lawyer, and her father’s body was sent off to California, where passage to Korea would be negotiated by one of the sheriff’s men. By the time all her work had been done, the town of Agua Fria was eager to be rid of Miss Hana Song, and she was happy to oblige.

Her Sunday best had since been traded for a pair of jeans and a rugged cotton shirt. Her father’s poncho had been found and so she had it tailored to her size. It was dark brown, with white patterns sewn into it. His hat was a touch too big for her head, but lining the inside with newspaper helped it sit snugly on her head.

Hana stood up and approached the room’s mirror, studying herself as she pulled the belt on and grabbed her father’s gun. He’d started with a Colt Single Action Army, though it looked like the grip had been switched for a Colt 1860 Army’s grip, and the barrel was swapped out for a Marlin rifle barrel that’d been cut down. She holstered the gun, and then drew it as fast as she could. The hammer of the piece caught on the holster and Hana’s arm flew up, almost smacking herself in the face.

“One day at a time,” she said to her reflection, smiling at how she looked. She’d mailed everything she didn’t need for this journey back to Philadelphia, and purchased rations and travel supplies from the town’s general store. This left her with ten dollars to her name, though she doubted she’d need much money where she was headed. Hana took a deep breath, trying to slow the beating of her heart, and then headed towards the town’s stables.

Sheriff Parker had found a grey-spotted mare which a local farmer had been willing to part with, and salvaged a dead ranger’s saddle for Hana. The stable hand, a dark skinned young boy named Tom who was so quiet Hana had thought he was a mute, had helped prepare everything for Hana’s journey, down to ensuring the straps on the saddle were at the right length for Hana.

Tom waved at Hana as she arrived at the stables, and tossed her an apple, “For the horse,” he muttered.

Hana barely caught the apple, then wandered into the stables, smiling as she saw the grey-spotted mare. “Here you go Meka,” Hana said as the mare eagerly ate the apple.

Behind her Tom tilted his head, “Why’d you name her Meka?”

Hana stroked Meka’s mane, “It was apparently the first sound I ever made. My dad thought it was hilarious,” Hana closed her eyes and nodded, “Is everything ready, Tom?”

“Err,” Tom moved to the side and picked up the saddlebags, “Just one second, Miss.” He loaded the bags onto Meka and stepped back. Hana hopped into the saddle and Tom led Meka outside, “You ride like a natural, Miss.”

Hana laughed softly, “You don’t have to lie to me, Tom, I’m not one of them,” she said, looking at the town.

Tom looked down, “R-right, you might want to pull on the reigns a bit less. Move with the horse instead of tryin’ to force her to do as you say.”

Hana nodded, loosening her grip slightly, “Thank you.” Meka and Hana trotted around the stables before Tom had decided that everything would be fine for Hana on the road.

The best anyone could tell her concerning the whereabouts of Gabriel Reyes and the Talon gang was that they were up north. While it wasn’t much, Hana was used to working with less. With a gentle kick Hana galloped out of Agua Fria, her father’s poncho billowing behind her in the wind. She was headed north, towards the Colorado River, and, hopefully, Talon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My current plan is for the first three chapters to each introduce one of the main characters. Next chapter should be about McCree.


	2. Make My Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger arrives in Yuma, aiming to do business with the big iron on his hip.

A lilting tune lazily wafted out from a piano, spilling across the saloon. The patrons idly gave the music attention, preferring to focus on their chatter, drinks or whatever cute girl happened to be in the vicinity. It was late in the afternoon, that time of day when it’s too late to work, but too early to sleep. There was never much to do in Yuma, which meant that people always managed to find their way to a watering hole of some sort around this time.

Behind the bar Angela was doing her best to wipe a dirty mug down with an even dirtier rag. As she cleaned she looked around the bar, making sure that drinks were filled, and the regulars were happy. Her gaze always returned to the corner of the bar, where a stranger sat, with a big iron on his hip. He’d ridden into town from the south side, barely saying a word to anyone as he looked around, before he made his way to Angela’s saloon, where he’d tied his draft horse and cart.

Angela gave the mug another wipe before realizing that she was just making the rag cleaner. She set the mug down, tucking the rag into her apron, and walked to the end of the bar, leaning against it across from the stranger. “Howdy partner,” she said, “Feelin’ thirsty?”

The stranger chuckled, pushing the brim of his hat up with a finger as he looked up at Angela, “I reckon that depends on what you’re offerin’.”

Angela made a show of looking under the counter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, “Well we’ve got whiskey. And what’s this!” she grabbed another bottle of whiskey, feigning a look of shock, “Why it’s more whiskey.”

“I cannot believe my eyes, what a wonderful place I’ve stumbled into,” the stranger flashed a grin at Angela, “How much?”

Angela poured a shot of whiskey, “A quarter and a name,” she slid the shot to the stranger, “Unless you’re one of those folks who wanders around without a name. Lots of them around these parts.”

The stranger fished a quarter from his pocket and set it on the counter, “Ah, I’m afraid not, ma’am. Unfortunately my parents gave me a name when I was born, and I’ve found myself using it to this day.” He drained the shot and set it down, gesturing for a refill, “I’m Jesse. Jesse McCree. I’ll respond to either.”

“Mmm, I think I like Jesse,” Angela refilled his shot, studying Jesse. He had the look of a man used to spending his time on the road. He wore a red poncho over a brown shirt, and had a wide brimmed hat on. Best she could tell, the big iron on his hip was a Colt Single Action Army, which had just come out this year. He smelled like a mix of tobacco and sweat, likely from his time on the road. “I’m Angela, by the way. Angela Ziegler. Though I mostly respond to Angela.”

Jesse held the shot up, towards Angela, “Well, here’s to you sweetheart,” he drained the shot then followed her gaze to his hip. “Hey now, why’s a girl like you so interested in a thing like that?”

“Just wonderin’ what your business is around here,” Angela scanned the saloon, making sure nobody else needed her service, “And if it involves your Peacemaker.”

“It does, but not to worry, I ain’t an outlaw if that’s what you’re worryin’ about,” he set another quarter on the counter.

Angela went to pour another, but Jesse held his hand up. She set the bottle back under the counter, “So, what are you then?”

Jesse pulled out a star shaped badge, then put it back away, “An Arizona Ranger. I don’t plan on stayin’ in town too long.”

A skinny man leaned against the counter, next to Jesse, smiling widely at Angela. Jesse kept his hands on the counter and looked to his side, noticing that the man was missing most his teeth. “A refill, please,” the man said.

Angela filled his mug with beer and took his dimes, “Thank you, Hank.”

“No, thank you, Angela,” Hank took a sip from the beer as he walked back to his table.

Angela turned back to Jesse, “An Arizona Ranger, huh? I thought you all rode mustangs and wore black.”

“Naw, that’d be the Texas Rangers. We’re a bit too pragmatic here in Arizona,” Jesse nodded towards the window, “Black and the sun don’t play too nice together. And hey, didn’t you say you only served whiskey?”

Angela giggled, “Oh, there’s beer, but I don’t think you’d like it too much, the whiskey keeps much better.” Angela clasped her hands together and leaned close to Jesse, “So, Mister Pragmatic, what brings you to Yuma?”

“Didn’t I say I responded to Jesse or McCree?” Jesse grinned, “But, uhh,” he sighed, his expression turning somber, “A few weeks back we hunted down a gang of outlaws called the Junkers. A few of them escaped, so we’ve been rounding up the stragglers. I’m after two of ‘em, Jamison Fawkes, who goes by Junkrat, an-“

“What the hell did you just say?” Hank turned around, wildly looking at Jesse. Angela’s face darkened, and she looked down.

Jesse turned to Hank, “I’m, err pardon me, who are you?”

“That’s Hank, he had all his teeth before Jamison and Mako came to town,” Angela quietly said.

“So you know who they are?”

Angela looked around the saloon, “Hey Jesse, I need a bit of help carryin’ some crates. You’re a big strong man, care to help?” She turned and started walking to the back of the saloon.

Jesse got up and followed, shrugging at Hank who gave a nod as he parted. Angela closed the door behind them once he walked into the storage room. “What’s goin’ on?” Jesse said.

“You best be careful mentioning those two around here,” Angela sighed, “They arrived in town two weeks ago, and they’ve killed twenty men in that time. Anyone that tries to deal with them gets shot.”

“Why haven’t you sent for help?”

“My father tried. They murdered him and stole his mustang.”

Jesse looked Angela’s face, trying to make out her expression, “I’m sorry, Angela. I’ll bring your father’s killers to justice.”

“Twenty men have tried, Jesse, and twenty men are dead. You’ll make twenty one.” Angela rubbed her face, “Word’ll probably reach them pretty soon about you. If you leave now you can probably give them the slip. You’ll have to abandon your cart though.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes, “I ain’t going anywhere.”

“Do you fancy yourself a man of true grit, Ranger?”

Jesse nodded in reply.

“I promise you, every single one of those twenty men did as well,” Angela frowned, “What makes you different?”

“My pretty face?” Jesse held his arms apart, doing his best to smile.

Angela scoffed, “You’re set on this, aren’t you?”

“Now, why do you care so much about a stranger who wondered into town?”

Angela looked into Jesse’s eyes, “You’re polite enough, paid for your drinks and you kept your eyes pointed at my face. You seem a good man, and I don’t like to see good men throw their lives away.”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Angela’s eyes, “I ain’t sure how to respond to that.”

“By gathering your belongings and fleeing. Go get the Arizona Rangers and bring them back here.”

“That’ll take me over a week, at the least. And if my math is correct, that means another ten men will die,” Jesse shook his head, “No. This is good. I didn’t expect to find them so soon.”

The two stood in silence, looking at each other. After a minute Angela suddenly walked to the door and opened it, “Very well then. Your next drink is on me.”

“Hey now, don’t reward me until after I’ve saved the town,” Jesse stepped back into the bar.

Angela shook her head, “No. This isn’t a reward,” she returned to her spot at the counter and grabbed a whiskey glass, pouring a generous amount for Jesse.

Jesse warily eyed the glass, making a point to ignore the fact that the rest of the saloon was staring at him, “What is it then?”

“I figure it’s polite to let a dead man have a free drink,” she moved the glass directly in front of Jesse.

Jesse smirked, then laughed softly, “I can drink to that,” he picked the glass up and turned to face the bar, “Cheers.” he stood up and drained the glass at once, making a face as the whiskey went down.

________________________________________

Sure enough, word was relayed to the two outlaws within an hour of Jesse arriving at Angela’s saloon. Neither of them were too worried though, they’d dealt with Arizona Rangers before, and this one was stupid enough to stay in town alone. After a brief discussion, they reckoned there was still enough daylight to kill the stranger before sunset, and they rode into town.

As they rode along the main street into Yuma, the townsfolk quickly made their way inside, locking their doors behind them. They made their way to their windows, nervously watching as the outlaws passed. Angela’s saloon had since cleared out. Nobody wanted to be around Jesse, not while the outlaws ruled the town. Inside two people sat next to each other; Angela was drinking her own glass of whiskey, while Jesse had spent the last hour in relative silence. Angela noticed the commotion outside and nudged Jesse, “There’s your cue.”

Jesse cleared his throat and stood up, looking out the window. The sun was starting to set, and the strangers were approaching from the west, meaning the light would be in his eyes. “Y’know, I’m used to my dramatic duels taking place at high noon,” he adjusted his hat, “But hey, I’m sure it’s high noon somewhere in the world.”

Angela gave Jesse a nod, “Godspeed Arizona Ranger. Anything you want me to do for you?”

Jesse stopped by the entrance and nodded, “Send word to the morgue. Tell ‘em to get two caskets ready,” he pushed open the doors to the saloon and strolled out into the street, seeing the two Junkers slowly riding through town. He squinted as the light hit his eyes, pulling his brim down lower. As his eyes adjusted he saw that Jamison was riding a black mustang, likely Angela’s father’s, and Mako was riding a draft horse.

Jesse let out a low whistle when he saw how huge Mako really was, before taking a step forward, “Now boys, you’ve got two options here. You can die in Yuma, or you can come peacefully with me to be hanged at the convenience of the people of Tucson,” he called out.

Jamison and Mako came to a stop twenty feet from Jesse, dismounting their horses. Jamison had a Webley British Bull Dog in his holster, and Mako had a sawn-off 12 gauge strapped to his hip as if it were a pistol. Jamison gave a toothy grin to Mako and started to laugh, “What do we have here? It’s a talking corpse. Ain’t that novel, Mako.” His laughter continued, filling the town.

Mako grunted in reply, taking a wide stance and keeping his eyes on Jesse.

The outlaws and the Ranger stared at each other, unmoving. Jamison’s laughter was the only sound in the town. From the windows people watched, holding their breaths; everyone knew that the handsome Ranger was about to meet his death.

“So we make our play here?” Jesse said.

Jamison’s laughter came to a sudden stop and his hand went for his Bull Dog. Before he could even clear the leather of his holster a gunshot cracked. Jesse’s Peacemaker was already in his hand, smoke trailing from the barrel.

There was another crack and the shot from Mako’s 12 gauge ripped through the air as he screamed with rage. Before Jesse could turn to Mako, the shots hit his left shoulder, and he stumbled back, trying to level his pistol at Mako.

Two more shots sounded, and the townsfolk finally released their breath as Mako slumped down, a new hole in his head. Jesse had dived down as he fired, barely ducking under Mako’s second shot.

Jesse stood up, brushing the dust off his poncho, and walked towards the bodies of the outlaws. People warily came out of their buildings, gathering around Jesse. His hand went to his left shoulder, wincing as he felt where the shots had hit him, “I, err, might need some help getting their bodies into my cart,” he nudged Mako’s corpse with his boot, “Especially this one.”

Angela ran out of her saloon, carrying a bag filled with medical supplies. She frowned when she saw the wound on Jesse’s shoulder and grabbed his right hand, “Come inside, I’ll patch you up.”

“Hang on a second,” Jesse said as Angela was dragging him, “Could someone pass me Jamison’s saddle bag?”

One of the townsfolk untied the saddlebag from the mustang and tossed it to Jesse. Jesse raised his left arm to catch it, then swore loudly as he was reminded that he had been shot. Angela knelt down and grabbed the saddlebag, carrying it in the same hand she was carrying her supplies, and then she forced Jesse back into the saloon.

Jesse pulled his poncho off and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it aside so Angela could get access to the wound. She started cleaning it, while he used his right hand to sort through the saddlebag, eventually pulling out a letter. He chuckled, “I wonder who sent this, poor bastard didn’t know they were illiterate.” Jesse opened the letter, reading it.

Angela pressed a bandage against his shoulder and he winced as she tied it down, “There you go, Jesse.” She stepped back, appraising her work, “Just don’t get into any more fights and you should be fine.”

Jesse didn’t look up from the letter, his brow furrowing.

“Jesse?” Angela said.

Jesse glanced up at Angela, “The bounties on those two are worth 500 a piece. I know that ain’t nothing compared to what they’ve taken from this town, but if you’re willin’ to take my cart down to Tucson you can collect the thousand dollars.”

“What’s in that letter?”

“It was sent by a man named Akande, he wanted to recruit them into a gang called Talon. They’re supposed to meet him in the Camelback Mountains tomorrow. I definitely ain’t gonna make the meeting, but if I ride hard I might be able to find a trail. Tucson is too far out of the way for me,” Jesse stood up, “How much for your mustang?” he said, gesturing outside, where it was starting to turn dark.

“Jesse,” Angela raised an eyebrow, “You’re giving me a thousand dollars, a draft horse and a cart. You can have the mustang and my father’s old saddle. My father would be proud that a man of your quality is using his saddle.” She looked out the window, “You can’t possibly intend to leave now though.”

“The roads here are reliable, I can get an hour of riding in before I have to stop for the night,” Jesse started walking outside, and Angela followed. He gathered his supplies from his cart, tying them onto the mustang’s saddle. Jesse mounted the mustang and looked to the northeast.

“Jesse,” Angela placed a hand on the back of the mustang.

Jesse glanced back, “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything,” Angela nodded and slapped the back of the mustang as Jesse let out a cry and galloped out of Yuma.


	3. A Man With No Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bounty hunter comes to the town of White Rocks lookin' to collect.

Rain had started to fall in the town of White Rocks; and along with the rain arrived a Stranger, leading his mule into town. A corpse was slung across the back of his mule, dangling off the sides like a spare saddle bag, though the mule seemed much more concerned with getting out of the rain than it did about the corpse. On the right side of the mule was a package of leather, rolled up and tied, and on the mule’s left side were provisions.

The Stranger was a tall man, who wore a long, light-tan coat over a dark button down shirt. He had a Union blue scarf around his neck, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. His blonde hair peeked out from the back of the hat, and he had a rather unkempt look to him, likely from his time on the road. On his hip was a Colt 1851 Navy, and over his shoulder he carried a pack. On his face was a slight scowl as he looked around the town, trying to figure out his destination. He watched as the townsfolk ran for shelter, carefully pulling a cigarillo out of his jacket’s pocket. He took care to keep the brim of his hat over the cigarillo as he lit it, his scowl dissipating somewhat as he took a long drag.

The Stranger slowed as he approached White Rocks’ Sheriff’s office, located right by the train station. He tied his mule, then hefted the corpse with a slight grunt and made his way inside. Behind the desk was a skinny man with a wispy mustache. The badge pinned to his chest indicated that he was the sheriff of the town, though he hardly looked like he could pick up a gun, let alone fire.

The sheriff jumped up, yelping, when the Stranger dumped the corpse on his desk. He looked accusingly at the Stranger, who slammed a piece of paper down next to the corpse. The sheriff relaxed, seeing that the corpse was a bounty. He smiled and extended a hand, “I’m Sheriff Montiago.”

The Stranger’s gaze stayed fixed on Montiago, only moving to take the cigarillo in and out of his mouth.

“R-right right,” Montiago lowered his hand and turned to the safe behind the desk, “One thousand dollars right?” He knelt down and opened the safe, pulling out a stack of bills and counting them, “Nasty business that Mad Hat Vialli.”

“Hmm,” the Stranger pushed the corpse over, “He wasn’t wearin’ a hat.”

“I, uhh, I suppose it was just a nickname for him, then,” Montiago finished counting out the Stranger’s payment and handed it to him, “Will you be staying in town at all, sir?”

The Stranger counted the bills as he leaned against the door, looking out at the rain, “Perhaps.”

“Y-you have business here?”

The Stranger nodded once he was satisfied that the sheriff wasn’t trying to shortchange him, and pocketed the money, “I might. You heard of a man named Maximilien?” he glanced back at Montiago, unflinching.

Montiago looked away, “He owns some, uhh, casinos right?”

“That he does,” the Stranger pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, snapping it open with a flick of his wrists, revealing a bounty on Maximilien, “Seems he’s got some other business too,” he pocketed the bounty notice and walked back into the rain. He looked at his mule who gave him a disgruntled snort, the sheriff’s office didn’t have any cover outside, so the mule was soaked.

The Stranger took one last drag from his cigarillo, then dropped it on the ground and untied the mule. Word had it that Maximilien was a man who loved gambling, and there was only one place in White Rocks where you could gamble:  the Stray Sheep.

________________________________________

The warmth of the Stray Sheep radiated out into the cool streets of White Rocks, and the commotion from inside could be heard two streets down. There was never much to do when it rained, and getting drunk was as good a way as any to forget about the dreary weather outside.

The Stranger walked up to the entrance of the saloon, leaning against the doorway. He’d made a point to find his mule somewhere with shelter before he’d made his way to the Stray Sheep. His gaze slowly swept the interior of the saloon, studying every detail he could.

It was packed inside, with a roaring fire keeping the place warm. The wooden floorboards were damp from all the townsfolk treading water inside. On the far side of the entrance was the counter, where a group of men, all with guns, were loudly sharing a fresh bottle of whiskey. Behind the counter the married couple that owned the joint were frantically cleaning dirty glasses, and filling new orders, barely able to keep their patrons served. On one of the walls by the counter was a board that listed all the drinks and their prices. Every table in the saloon was packed, with people playing cards and throwing dice over their drinks. Most the yelling was about one of the various games, as men accused each other of cheating.

By the fire men told stories about themselves, trying to impress the group of ladies that had congregated. The women politely giggled along with each story, and clapped where they should, knowing that they wouldn’t be paying a cent of their tab tonight. Next to the big board with all the drinks’ prices were the stairs, which led to the rooms that could be rented out for the night, or sometimes only for a few minutes when one of the men’s stories were good enough.

The Stranger strolled up to the counter and tapped a finger against it, gesturing for a drink once he got the husband’s attention. The barkeep nodded and poured him a shot of whiskey, and the Stranger tossed a 50 cent coin at him, “Awful lot of folk in here,” the Stranger said.

The barkeep caught the coin, “Looking for anyone in particular?”

The Stranger gave one more look around the bar, then leaned close so only the barkeep could hear him, “Fella named Maximilien.”

The barkeep leaned back, and glanced at the board with the prices, “Seems you’re short a bit for your drink, Mister.”

The Stranger glanced at the shot, then to the board, where it said that a shot of whiskey was a quarter. He slid another half dollar to the man, and then drank his whiskey.

The barkeep discretely took the money, pocketing it, then nodded towards a table in the corner, where men were playing poker, “He’s the one with the biggest pile of cash.”

The Stranger tipped his hat slightly as he got up and walked away from the bar, towards the game of poker. He came to a stop by the table, studying the game for a moment.

Sure enough, Maximilien had amassed a small hoard of coins and bills in front of him. His movements were precise, and every expression was calculated, not letting a single hint about the contents of his hand out. Maximilien was a middle aged man with dark, receding hair.  He had gaunt features, and wore a neatly pressed suit that didn’t have a speck of dust on it.

Maximilien casually set his hand on the table, face up, and held his arms apart, widely grinning. He showed two aces and a king, the strongest hand at the table by far. The other men groaned as the suited man started raking in the money, and the Stranger moved to the table. He reached for the deck, but was stopped by Maximilien, “I’m afraid I recognize a pair of fast hands when I see them, stranger, I think it’s best if we let Johnny over there keep dealing,” he nodded at the toothless man across from him.

Maximilien pulled out the seat next to him, flashing a wide smile at the Stranger, “Please, take a seat. Though we play for high stakes at this table. There’s a hundred dollar ante, think you can afford that?”

The Stranger rested against the back of the chair that was pulled out for him, “I’m a bit short on cash, though I’ve got something that’s worth quite a bit here,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, setting it down in front of Maximilien.

Maximilien’s smile disappeared as he opened the paper, seeing his bounty. Before he could respond the Stranger’s fist flew into his face, knocking him out of his chair. The Stranger leaped on top of him, grabbing his collar with one hand and yanking him up. Maximilien started to reach for his pistol, and the Stranger cocked his free hand back into a fist, “The bounty’s dead or alive, meanin’ we still got options.” Around them the bar had fallen silent, as people tried to catch today’s newest entertainment.

Maximilien held his arms above his head, “Now, sir, surely we can have a civilized discussion about all this. There must have been a misunderstanding, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

The Stranger tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. He yanked Maximilien to his feet and started moving to the bar. People moved out of the way

“Be gentle, be gentle, you’ll damage the suit,” Maximilien stumbled along with the Stranger, “At the least tell me what alleged wrongdoing I’m being brought in for, so I can clarify. Surely you don’t want to make a scene, only to find there’s been a mistake.”

The Stranger growled as he slammed Maximilien against the counter, “Folks in Tempe finally caught wind of the funds you were sendin’ to Talon.”

Maximilien let out a yell of pain, his eyes widening, “T-there’s no proof of that,” he sputtered.

The Stranger raised an eyebrow, preparing to throw another punch when the doors to the saloon swung open wildly, banging against the walls. Three men, dripping wet from the rain, ran into the saloon, guns at the ready. The biggest of them, tall Mexican man with a wild beard, gestured his gun towards the Stranger’s back, “Let him go.”

Maximilien nodded, a cocky grin appearing on his face, “Best let me go, sir.”

 The Stranger didn’t look back, his expression unchanging as he took a deep breath. The patrons of the bar started to clear away from the Stranger, and the two owners of the saloon ducked behind the counter for cover. Not a sound could be heard in the bar over the gentle pattering of the rain against the roof.

The Stranger spun around, dropping Maximilien to the ground. His Colt Navy was already in his hand, and his hand was by his hip. Before Maximilien’s men could react he fanned the hammer of his gun, unloading five shots into the men at the entrance. All three were dead before they hit the ground.

Maximilien frantically reached for his pistol as he crawled along the ground. Before he even touched it the Stranger’s gun was pointed at Maximilien.

Maximilien’s hands darted away from the gun into the air and he scrambled back, “Now, sir, surely we can talk. The bounty’s dead or alive ri-“

The Stranger’s Colt Navy replied, sending lead and smoke and seventeen inches of flame ripping through Maximilien’s head. The Stranger holstered his gun, pulling out another cigarillo and lighting it. He looked around the bar, where people had gone back to their business of drinking, gambling and wasting the day away.

________________________________________

Montiago yelped in surprise as another corpse was dumped onto his desk. The Stranger stood behind, looming over Montiago.

Montiago stood up, trying to match the Stranger’s stare, “Will you throw a body at me every time we meet?”

The Stranger nodded towards the safe.

Montiago sighed, “What was his bounty again?” He turned to the safe, opening it.

“Fifteen hundred,” the Stranger watched Montiago’s movements carefully, “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Oh? That’s great, what about, sir?” Montiago set a stack of bills on the table

The Stranger picked up the stack and started counting, “Well, it took maybe a minute for Maximilien’s men to come and try to save him,” he nodded and pocketed the money, “And I didn’t see anyone leave the bar.”

Montiago backed away, breathing heavily, “Wha- what are you saying?”

The Stranger unflinchingly studied Sheriff Montiago, and Montiago tried to sneakily move his hand towards his holster, keeping eye contact with the Stranger. Montiago’s fingers crept, inch by inch, ever closer to his gun. Finally he found purchase and pulled the gun out of the holster.

The Stranger slipped leather like lighting, and fired at Montiago’s hand. The Sheriff’s gun hit the ground with a clatter, and Montiago whimpered in pain, curling around his hand. The Stranger walked up to Montiago and yanked him to his feet. Montiago winced, looking away. The Stranger shook his head, yanking the Sheriff’s badge off of Montiago’s chest, and walked out of the office.

Outside the rain had cleared, and he saw two men chattering. The Stranger untied his mule, mounted it then trotted by the two men, tossing the badge at them. One of the man barely caught it and looked up at the Stranger, confused.

“You might want to find a new Sheriff,” the Stranger nodded then set off north before the men could reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all three of the main characters introduced. If it wasn't clear, this chapter was meant to be about Soldier, though I suppose it's hard to convey that when I want him to be nameless in the story. 
> 
> Oh and feedback is always welcome, I am aware how much room I've got to improve, especially when it comes to action.


	4. The Wicked Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana's hunt for Reyes has led her to a cave where she believes she'll find Talon. Instead she finds a new ally.

Hana stood by the mouth of a cave, her father’s piece in her hand. The ground outside the cave was well trodden, and there were tracks that led to the north. Meka was tied to a cactus that had been sitting outside; Hana had left water and some apples for her to eat.

Sweat dripped from her brow, and she squinted as she looked around, the bright sun of the Sonoran desert was almost blinding with its intensity. Not a sound could be heard from inside the cave. Hana approached slowly, hearing her boots crunch against the sand as she inched closer to the entrance.

She cautiously stepped into the cave’s chamber, holding her gun in front of her. The cave consisted of one cavern, with large boulders formed in a semi-circle towards the cave’s back. In the center of the cavern was a fire pit, with a pile of ashes and cinders in the center. Strewn around the fire pit were the remains of cigars, indicating that whoever had been staying here was a heavy smoker. Hana had heard rumors about Reyes’ habit.

Hana let out a sigh, not sure if it was of relief or disappointment, when she realized she’d missed Talon by at least a few days, and lowered her gun, slipping it back into its holster. She approached the fire pit and poked at the cigar butts with her boot, studying the ground. There were five rectangular spots next to the boulders where the dirt was packed down tighter than usual.

Hana approached the place where she suspected they’d slept when she heard a whinny from Meka, then a faint voice trying to sooth her. Hana grabbed her gun, fumbling as she cocked the hammer, then carefully moved behind the boulders, making sure not to kick up any dust.

A handsome man stepped into the cavern, not matching any description Hana had heard. He had a red poncho over his shirt, and worn jeans with leather chaps. His gun, a Colt Army, was still in his holster. He walked into the cave, looking around, before kneeling down by the campfire. After a pause, he shrugged and pulled out a cigar, lighting it.

Hana’s eyes narrowed, and she started climbing up the side of the boulder she had ducked behind, staying low so the man couldn’t see her. The man strolled over to her boulder and leaned against it as he took another drag, letting out a sigh with the smoke.

Hana stood on top of the boulder, eyeing the ground. She looked to be about seven feet off the ground, not too bad. She pointed her gun at the man then cleared her throat, “Hands in the air, then turn around slowly.”

The man’s hands jolted into the air, the cigar dropping to the ground. He swore under his breath as he turned, looking up at Hana. His eyes widened when he saw her, “What in tarnation?”

“Pardon me?” Hana gestured the gun at him, glaring, “Who are you?”

The man glanced down, “My apologies, ma’am, you just took me by surprise is all,” he cleared his throat, responding to Hana’s glare with a smile, “The name’s Jesse, Jesse McCree. I’ll respond to either.”

Hana’s gaze softened, though she kept her gun level, “Okay Mr. McCree, where are the rest of your companions?”

“Companions?” Jesse looked around, “I’m traveling alone Miss?”

“Song, and don’t try to lie to me,” Hana nodded towards the ground, “It’s clear at least five people have been camping here.”

Jesse followed Hana’s nods, noticing the packed in dirt, “Good eye Miss Song.” He smiled up at her, “Listen, could I grab something from my shirt pocket? I’ll move real slow, okay?”

Hana paused, studying Jesse. He seemed polite, though this could easily be a bluff to get her to lower her guard. After a minute she nodded.

Jesse lowered his right hand, moving it towards the pocket on his chest. He moved at an inch a second, slowly creeping down and making sure Miss Song could see his every move. He grabbed his Arizona Ranger badge and pulled it out, holding it up.

“Toss it here, Mr. McCree,” Hana said, holding her left hand out. She kept the gun held in her right hand.

Jesse tossed the badge up, and Hana caught it, studying the badge. She nodded to herself the tossed the badge back, uncocking her gun and holstering it. “My apologies Ranger,” she bowed her head, “I mistook you for a member of Talon.” She slid down the boulder, then dropped off, landing by Jesse’s side. “I’m Hana Song,” she curtseyed.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Hana,” he chuckled as he studied her, “You’re the first person to get the drop on me in a long time,” he looked around the cavern again, "You’ve got a good head on you.”

“Thank you Mr. McCree.”

“I think I prefer just McCree, if you don’t mind,” Jesse smiled at Hana, then knelt down and picked his cigar back up.

“Hmm, then I’ll call you Jesse,” Hana started walking outside.

Jesse lit his cigar then followed, “So, what’s a fine young girl like you doing out in the middle of the desert lookin’ to do business with Talon.”

Hana paused, “I, uhh,” she glanced at the ground then shook her head. She turned to face Jesse, standing as tall as she could, “I aim to bring Gabriel Reyes to justice for killing my father.”

Jesse’s face darkened, and he pulled the cigar out of his mouth, “Reyes is a dangerous man, you sure you can do it alone?”

Hana smiled at Jesse, “You’re the first person I’ve met that hasn’t laughed when I told them about my business.”

“Revenge ain’t no laughin’ matter to me,” Jesse took a drag from his cigar.

“In that case, I’d certainly feel much more confident with an Arizona Ranger by my side.” Hana extended her hand.

Jesse took Hana’s hand, “Well, looks like I’ve formed my first posse.” He shook her hand, noting her firm grip, “I happen to have some business with Reyes myself.”

“And what’s that?”

“He was my mentor. He taught me everything I know,” Jesse looked aside, “The least I can do is bring him to justice.”

“I don’t think Reyes taught you to be a decent man,” Hana glanced over her shoulder at Jesse.

“Thanks Miss Song,” Jesse bowed his head slightly.

Hana stepped out into the sun, seeing Jesse’s mustang standing next to Meka. Jesse’s horse was trying to steal some of Meka’s apples, though Meka was guarding them furiously.

“What’s his name?” Hana said, moving to untie Meka.

Jesse stood between his mustang and Meka, “I actually ain’t named him yet.”

“You should get on that. Names are important,” Hana picked up the uneaten apples and put them in a sack tied to her saddle, “So, you got an idea of where we’re heading now?” She hopped onto Meka, “The tracks head north.”

Jesse nodded, “I’ve got a letter from Talon’s leader saying that they’re headed to the Camelback Mountains. I suspect they aim to continue further north.” He hopped on his mustang and stroked its mane, “How’s Durango?”

Hana looked back, “That has a good ring to it.” She trotted around Jesse and Durango.

Jesse studied the tracks on the ground, noting that they headed straight north. He grabbed a map from his saddlebag and opened it. “You heard of this town?” he said, pointing to a spot on the map labeled Dusty Bellows.

Hana pulled to a stop next to Jesse and leaned close, reading the map, “I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“It’s run by a man named Antonio Bartalotti, he’s a nasty guy, smuggles weapons for Talon. He’s also the mayor of Dusty Bellows, and uses it as his base of operations.”

Hana sat back up in her saddle, “And the town just happens to be slightly out of the way if you’re headed north from here,” she looked at the horizon, “Think they paid their friend a visit?”

“I reckon there’s only one way to find out,” Jesse folded the map up and placed it back in his saddle bag, “Though we’ll need a cover. It wouldn’t do for Bartalotti to know that an Arizona Ranger is in his town.”

“I’m not pretending to be your bride,” Hana immediately said.

Jesse chuckled, “Funnily enough I wasn’t even considerin’ that,” he studied Hana, “Unfortunately I don’t think we can pass as siblings either, and you’re too armed to be some helpless damsel. Anything you feel confident about bullshitting?”

“I was studying mathematics at university, perhaps I could be your accountant?”

“I’d say you’re a pretty rugged looking accountant.”

“Trust me; I’ll be able to prove it,” Hana smiled, “So, off to Dusty Bellows?”

“Now hang on a minute, why do I need an accountant?”

“Your lawyer told you to hire me to help sort out your finances, on account of you being scammed last quarter. We’re travelling to Dusty Bellows to potentially look into investing in some arms to make up for your losses. As for our rugged appearance,” Hana shrugged, “It’s dangerous out there in the Sonoran desert. Wouldn’t do to travel unprotected.”

“You were a bit too quick with that for my liking, Miss Song,” Jesse said, chuckling softly.

“You said it yourself, I’ve got a good head,” Hana gently flicked Meka’s reigns and started trotting north.

Jesse rode up to her side and matched her pace, “How good are you with that piece?”

“I’ve practiced a bit, and I can reliably hit any cactus that dares cross my path,” Hana sheepishly looked over at Jesse, “But truth be told, I’ve never been in a fight in my life.”

Jesse shook his head, “How the hell did I let someone who’s never been in a fight get the drop on me? I should hand my badge over in shame.” He tapped the gun on his hip, “I can teach you a bit every night when we make camp.”

“I would very much appreciate that, Jesse,” Hana sped up a bit, “Perhaps I can teach you a bit about stealth in exchange.”

Jesse let out a loud laugh in response, “Hey now, don’t get too cocky.”

The pair galloped away from the cave, their horses kicking up dust as they headed towards Dusty Bellows.

________________________________________

Jesse sat by the fire, watching Hana repeatedly draw her gun, then holster it. They had been riding together for three days now, and Dusty Bellows was another two days away. She’d explained what happened between her father and Reyes, along with why she had to come down to Arizona to finish the business herself. In exchange Jesse had told her about the letter from Akande to the Junkers, and showed her pictures of Talon’s five major players: Akande Ogundimu, Gabriel Reyes, Olivia Colomar, Amelie Lacroix and Moira O’Deorain.

Hana was almost single-minded in her determination to avenge her father; Jesse suspected that if he hadn’t offered to team up with her, she would have continued north alone. And with how driven she was, he had half a mind that she might have managed to succeed alone as well.

“You’re still hesitating a bit once you get the gun out of the holster. Don’t pause to make sure it’s actually out, just trust yourself.”

Hana looked over at Jesse, then nodded in response, trying another draw.

“Better,” Jesse stood up, “Why don’t you take a break?”

Hana slid the gun against her hip and moved next to the fire, taking a seat by her pack. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the ground. Jesse gave her a worried look, though Hana didn’t even notice his gaze. The fire crackled between them, sparks rising into the sky. Jesse followed one of the sparks up to the sky and looked at the stars.”Yknow, I’m gonna be honest. I’ve never been able to see the constellations.”

Hana looked up, “What do you mean?”

“Well like I know that bunch,” Jesse pointed at a section of the sky, “Is supposed to be Orion the Hunter. But all I see are a bunch of bright dots in the sky. I even tried drawing them down and connecting the dots, and all I got was a random bunch of lines that looked nothin’ like a great hunter.”

Hana smirked, “No you’re definitely right,” she looked at where Orion the Hunter was supposed to be, “I do know that our ancestors were fond of smoking strange herbs. Perhaps that’s the trick to seeing people in the stars.”

“I think I’ll stick to smokin’ tobacco,” Jesse said, pulling out a cigar.

“Probably a wise decision,” Hana’s gaze stayed fixed up at the stars while Jesse lit his cigar. Once it was lit she smiled a bit, “You ever wonder about what’s out there?”

“Other than a bunch of people I can’t see?” Jesse blew his smoke up towards the stars.

Hana chuckled, “Well, what are the stars exactly? I wonder about that occasionally.”

Jesse looked at Hana’s face, “You said you were studying mathematics, right? How’d that happen?”

“Well, my dad taught me to read once we arrived in America, I think he figured it’d be useful to have someone to help out with English. And I couldn’t get enough of reading.”

Jesse tilted his head slightly, “Couldn’t your mother help him out?”

Hana shook her head, “She died of pneumonia on the boat ride over.”

Jesse averted his gaze, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’ve long made peace with it,” Hana ran a hand through her hair, “But eventually I started reading books about the world, and science and such, and I noticed that no matter where I looked, math was there. So I figured the best way to better understand the universe was to learn math.” Hana grabbed a stick and poked at the logs, sending a spray of sparks into the air, “Now actually getting into the university was another ordeal entirely. For one, I’m a woman. And for two, I’m not white.”

“How’d you get in?”

“One of the professors decided to give me a chance, and invited me to his office. We talked about his research, and he presented me with a set of problems. The next day I came back with the solutions,” Hana grinned, “As it turns out, the last question was one of his personal problems that he’d been working on. Needless to say, he was thoroughly impressed.”

“You’re quite a woman, Miss Song,” Jesse grabbed his water skin and tried to open it with one hand while he smoked.

“And whatever could you mean by that?”

“Most men I know would flee rather than face any member of the Talon gang, and here you are charging into the desert to find their leaders,” Jesse stuck his cigar in his mouth and used both hands to open the water skin, “You’ve got grit, even more than some Rangers I know.”

Hana yawned, covering her mouth with her hands, “Thank you, Jesse,” she yawned again, “I think I’ll try to sleep now.” She curled up and lay down on the ground.

“I should do the same,” Jesse tossed his cigar into the fire then took a swig of water, “Night Hana.” He looked over at her, realizing she was already asleep.

________________________________________

Jesse stood next to the horses outside of the inn across the street from Dusty Bellows’ mayor’s office, a three story building where Jesse suspected the weapons smuggling operation was. Inside Hana was bartering for their rooms, and going off the sounds of things Jesse felt bad for the innkeeper.

A small child had been loitering outside the inn, staying near Jesse since he’d arrived. Jesse glanced back inside the inn, seeing Hana point at the innkeeper’s record books, and decided that their room wouldn’t be ready anytime soon. “Hey kid,” he called out, “I’m new in town and was wonderin’ if you could help me out a bit.”

The kid walked up to Jesse, stretching his arms behind his head. He had a round face that was covered with dust, and ragged clothes that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. “I’d sure love to Mister, thing is my memory ain’t been too good lately.”

Jesse fished a quarter out of his pocket, “It’s a shame for kids this young to be forgetting things,” he tossed the coin to the kid.

The kid snatched the coin out of the air and inspected it, “Well, what would you like to know?”

“Anyone new come into town lately?”

“Sure,” the kid pointed at Meka and Durango, “A pair of strangers rode in riding those horses.”

“Cut the shit, smartass,” Jesse grinned, tossing another quarter.

“An Irishwoman arrived four days ago and went into that building,” the kid pointed at the mayor’s office.

“And how do you know she was Irish?”

“Because of what the mayor called her.”

“And what was that?” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the mayor’s office.

The kid shook his head, holding a hand up to it, “I want to remember, it’s right there, but I just can’t quite…”

Jesse flicked another quarter at the kid, “Last one okay?”

The kid caught it, “Thanks mister, he called her Miss O’Deorain.”

Jesse let out a soft growl, “Thanks kid, I’ll let you know if I have any more questions.”

The kid ran off, clutching the quarters in his hand. Jesse turned his attention back to the mayor’s office. Bartalotti controlled the town’s sheriff, and he had a personal guard of fifteen men. The best plan for now would be to keep their eye out for when O’Deorain left, and stealthily follow her. Trying to start anything in Dusty Bellows would be suicide.

Jesse walked into the inn, where the innkeeper handed over a pair of keys to Hana with a forced smile. Hana took the keys and bowed her head, turning back to Jesse, “Oh, I got us the presidential suite.” She walked outside and started grabbing her belongings off of Meka.

Jesse followed, nudging her once they got outside, “I’ve got word that O’Deorain is in town, over there,” he nodded at the mayor’s office, “She usually travels with Reyes, so she might know exactly where they are.”

Hana stopped, staring at the mayor’s office. She glanced down at the gun on her hip. Jesse reached out and took her arm, “Get your stuff, Hana, c’mon.”

Hana forced herself to look away, returning into the inn and making her way to their room. Hana had been insistent that they get the room that faced the mayor’s office, wanting to be able to watch Bartalotti. The innkeeper had been insistent that the room was taken already, and it wasn’t open for negotiation, but Hana knew that he just hadn’t negotiated with a Song yet.

Fortunately the room had two beds, and Hana took the one by the door, setting her belongings at the foot of the bed, “What’s our plan?”

“Wait for O’Deorain to leave then track her out of town. We’ll ambush her once we’re sure that nobody from town can help,” Jesse pulled his gun out of its holster and set it down on the desk that was between the beds, “For now, let’s clean our guns then get some dinner.”

There was a sudden pounding at the door, causing Hana to jump slightly. Jesse got up and opened it, not seeing anyone at first. He looked downward and saw the kid from earlier, “Oh, hey kid, what is it?”

“Someone new just got in town, and you’re gonna want to see this, sir,” the kid frantically said, almost tripping over his words.

Jesse rumpled the kid’s hair and handed him another quarter, “Thanks kid, just outside?”

The kid nodded, and Jesse and Hana grabbed their gear and made their way out to the streets.

At the end of the town’s main street a Stranger rode a mule with a corpse slung across its back. The Stranger was tall, with blonde hair and a light tan coat over a dark shirt. People were starting to walk onto the street, forming a crowd behind the Stranger and starting to murmur.

The Stranger came to a stop in front of the mayor’s building, and Jesse got a look at his face. “Wait a minute, I think I’ve heard of this guy,” he said to Hana.

“Who’s the corpse?” she said.

“That’s Dante Giordani,” the kid said in a hushed voice, “Bartalotti’s right hand man. He had a bounty on him, though nobody would dare to collect it in this town.”

The Stranger hopped off his mule and untied Giordani’s corpse, dumping it at the entrance of the office. He looked up at the windows, where Bartalotti could be seen staring down at him. Bartalotti was a large man, wearing a patterned maroon suit. The sides of his head were shaved, and hair on top of his head was slicked back. He had a thick black beard, but no mustache.

The Stranger opened his jacket, showing the piece at his hip. He ignored the crowd that had gathered around him, fixing his stern gaze on Bartalotti, “Antonio!” he yelled, “I’m coming for you next!”

Bartalotti scowled down at the Stranger, unmoving. The Stranger kept eye contact, daring Bartalotti to make the first move. Hana glanced over at Jesse, who was looking between the windows of the mayor’s office, trying to find O’Deorain. The crowd’s murmuring had stopped, and not a sound could be heard in the town; the air felt heavy and nobody wanted to disturb it. A gust of wind blew through the town, sending the stranger’s coat billowing behind him. After an eternity, Bartalotti finally turned away, retreating back into his office and the crowd started to clear. The Stranger walked back to his mule and led it to the inn across the street from the office, pausing when he passed Hana and Jesse to give them a tip of his hat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh by the way, my friend Nine has been cool enough to help edit most the chapters. Thanks for all the help Nine.


	5. Deadly Shootout at Dusty Bellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana and Jesse decide to talk to the Stranger, hoping that they can join forces.

Jesse leaned against the wall by the window in their room, looking outside. The Stranger had rented the room next to theirs, after kicking out the previous renter, and Hana was pacing by the door, contemplating going over and talking to him.

Bartalotti’s men had taken the body inside, and he’d ordered two of them to stand guard out front, where they watched the inn. If O’Deorain was here, she hadn’t shown her face at all during the commotion.

“Why don’t we just go talk to him, Jesse?” Hana said, coming to an abrupt stop. “Are you still watching Bartalotti’s men?”

Jesse turned away from the window then nodded, “He’s posted a group of guards who I’m sure will follow that Stranger’s every move.”

Hana approached the window, looking at the guards. One was a man so large that massive barely started to do him justice. He had a dark black mustache, and long greasy hair that was pulled back. A pair of bandoliers filled with shotgun shells was strapped over his chest, and he wore a sombrero. The second guard was a man so plain that Jesse found himself forgetting his features even as he looked at him.

“The Stranger isn’t hostile to us though, surely we can try to work with him?”

“I think he aims to kill Bartalotti, and we definitely can’t risk getting into a battle like that,” Jesse shook his head and started rolling a cigarillo. He fumbled a bit, and Hana took the paper and tobacco from him, licking the paper then rolling the cigarillo in one smooth motion.

“This is smaller than usual,” she remarked.

“I’m runnin’ low on tobacco,” Jesse said as he took the cigarillo back from Hana with a nod of thanks.

Hana struck a match and held it up for Jesse, who leaned in and took a drag. She shook the match out, then looked at the wall to their left, which the Stranger was behind, “You said it yourself, Bartalotti works for Talon. And O’Deorain is here. We have reason to help the Stranger with his battle.”

Jesse exhaled out the window, “That we do. We don’t have cause to help him with a suicide mission though.”

“Bartalotti has fourteen men left,” Hana stepped away from the window, “Plus O’Deorain and himself means we’ll be fighting three on sixteen. Those are better odds than what we’re going to be facing when we catch up with Talon’s main crew.”

“You’re forgetting the Sheriff and his men, that makes three against nineteen,” Jesse stood up, “But yeah, still better odds than two against Talon. I don’t even know how many men they’ve got workin’ for the gang now.”

Hana grabbed her gun, holstering it, “Who does the talking?”

“You mind if I start? I’ve worked with bounty hunters before.”

 “Should I just stand behind you and look intimidating?” Hana grinned.

Jesse scoffed, “You’re welcome to try your best.”

________________________________________

The Stranger sat on a chair by his room’s window. The two men outside had spent the last hour staring at him, so the Stranger decided to clean his guns. His revolver was disassembled, and its parts were lying atop a handkerchief. The Stranger held the barrel of his Colt Navy, brushing gunpowder out from the inside.

There was a knock at the door, and the Stranger, sat up suddenly, looking back outside. The guards hadn’t moved from their spot, and he hadn’t noticed anyone else leaving the building. Who could it be? He quickly assembled his gun, loading it, then walked to the wall next to the door, “Yes?” He smelled tobacco from the other side of the door.

“We’re the strangers you passed by when you walked into the inn. We want to talk,” came the reply.

The Stranger opened the door, leveling his gun at the entry. Jesse walked in and put his hands up when he saw the gun, “Woah there, no need for that.”

The Stranger narrowed his eyes, seeing the girl behind the man. They were both armed, but neither looked hostile. Still, sometimes the most dangerous people looked the least threatening. The Stranger raised an eyebrow, keeping the gun level.

Jesse sighed, “Can I grab something from my breast pocket?”

The Stranger nodded.

Jesse carefully pulled out his Arizona Ranger badge, holding it up for the Stranger. The Stranger lowered his gun, moving back to his spot by the window, “Apologies.”

“No problem, I get the caution. I’m Jesse McCree, and this is Hana Song,” Jesse gestured at the girl behind him.

The Stranger grunted in reply and gestured for the two to come in.

Jesse and Hana stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. “Keepin’ a watch on Bartalotti’s men, huh Blondie?”

The Stranger narrowed his eyes, pointing at himself with a questioning look.

“Yeah, cause of your hair,” Jesse smiled.

Blondie shrugged, starting to disassemble his Colt Navy again.

“So,” Jesse took his cigarillo out of his mouth, “Miss Song and I have business with one of Bartalotti’s associates, a woman named Moira O’Deorain.”

Blondie studied Hana. She leaning against the wall next to the door, one of her feet pressed against the wall. She didn’t look older than twenty, though she wore rugged travel clothes rather naturally. “O’Deorain,” Blondie picked up the barrel of his revolver and resumed cleaning out the gunpowder, “She’s got quite a bounty on her. Though it’ll be risky to collect here.”

“We were plannin’ on following her trail once she left town,” Jesse took a long drag.

“Ah,” Blondie lowered the barrel, “I think I get why you wanted to talk to me,” he set the barrel down, “My apologies. I might’ve ruined your plan.” He bowed his head.

Jesse and Hana exchanged a look before both turned back to Blondie. “Err, well that ain’t quite it,” Jesse said.

Blondie tilted his head and Hana stood up off of the wall, “We want to help you take out Bartalotti,” she said.

Blondie looked between the two, stopping on Hana, “I ain’t in this for the money.”

Hana stepped closer to Blondie, “Neither are we, sir.”

Blondie turned to Jesse, wordlessly staring at him.

Jesse sighed, “We’re trying to track down Talon’s main crew. Primarily Reyes and Akande.”

Blondie stood up, walking over to his pack. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then took a swig before handing it to Jesse, “So you need O’Deorain alive?”

Jesse took the bottle, sipping, and passed it to Hana, “That was the aim, we were hopin’ she could help us track down the rest of her gang,” Jesse said, tossing what was left of his cigarillo out the window.

Hana sniffed the whiskey, wincing at the smell. Blondie looked over at her, smiling once she took a drink and started coughing, “That’s the spirit,” he took the bottle, “So, I think we’re both in luck. I’ve also been hunting down members of Talon.” He grabbed his flask of water and tossed it at Hana.

Hana caught the water, opening it and drinking, “Might I ask why?” Hana said after she cleared her throat.

Blondie took another swig of whiskey, “I used to serve with Reyes back during the Civil War.” He looked at Hana, “And why’s a young girl hunting down a pack of ruthless killers?”

“Reyes murdered my father, and nobody else seemed willing to bring him to justice,” Hana handed Blondie his water back. Jesse looked at Blondie’s clothing, studying his scarf’s color.

“Mmm,” Blondie didn’t look away from her, “What are you, by the way? You definitely ain’t white, but I can’t tell past that.”

“I’m from a country called Korea. It’s by China.”

Blondie nodded in response, corking the whiskey bottle and putting it back in his pack.

“Were you also one of Sherman’s men?” Jesse said.

“Now, how’d you know that?” Blondie smiled at Jesse.

“About eight years ago I met Reyes in California. He told me he was a veteran of the Civil War, and that he’d fought under General Sherman. We traveled together for a couple of years, and he taught me how to fight. Then one day he disappeared. Wasn’t until three years ago I heard that he’d signed up with the Talon gang,” Jesse looked down, “He was always a ruthless man, so it didn’t surprise me too much when I heard that he’d gone bad.”

“Let’s get some dinner,” Blondie hopped up, “I suspect Reyes was always bad,” he walked to the door, “You heard of the March to the Sea, right?”

Both Jesse and Hana nodded, following Blondie.

“I’ve never seen a man more at home than Reyes was when he was burning those buildings down. We were ordered not to harm any civilians, but there was no way to enforce it beyond our consciousness,” Blondie started heading down the stairs, “Poe ended up ordering us to hunt him down so he could be hanged for his crimes. But Reyes fled west,” Blondie glanced over his shoulder at Jesse, “That must be when you met him.”

“He never did mention why he’d come west,” Jesse said.

“Well, what matters is that we’re all going to bring him to justice,” Hana said, “He’d be shaking in his boots if he knew who was coming after him.”

Jesse chuckled, “That’s the spirit.”

Blondie nodded, continuing down the stairs.

________________________________________

The inn had cleared out since Blondie had arrived, as nobody wanted to risk being caught in the crossfire between Bartalotti and Blondie. The three sat alone in the main room, with a bowl of soup and some stale bread in front of each of them. The innkeeper had been angry at them when they came down, wanting to kick them out until Blondie had given him extra rent for his trouble.

The three sat on the same side of their table, watching the entrance as they ate.

“Were you watching Bartalotti’s office after I arrived?” Blondie said, setting his spoon in the empty bowl.

Jesse nodded, “Two guards came outside and took the body inside before posting out front.”

“Exactly,” Blondie grinned, “They didn’t even check the body, meaning we can leave them a little present next time we dump another corpse at his doorway.”

“What were you thinking?” Hana said, poking at her half eaten bread.

Blondie stood up, nodding for them to follow, and walked upstairs to his room. Inside he knelt down and grabbed three sticks of dynamite, along with three blasting caps, setting them on the bed next to his revolver.

Jesse let out a low whistle, “How do we detonate them, though?”

Blondie pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, a rag and some matches. Hana took the bottle, inspecting the liquid, “Is this medical alcohol?”

Blondie nodded, “A surgeon sold it to me.”

Hana set the bottle down, “Well, that’s certainly a way to make an entrance. Though, are there any more outstanding bounties on Bartalotti’s men?”

Jesse nodded, “The man with the sombrero outside, that’s El Paso Red. Though I imagine Bartalotti won’t sit quietly if another one of his men is killed, bounty or not.”

“What was your plan?” Hana said to Blondie.

“The sheriff and his two deputies are both on Bartalotti’s payroll. I figured I’d kill them tonight, and wake Bartalotti up.”

Jesse nodded, “Okay, Blondie and I can leave out back once the sun goes down. Hana, could you keep watch and fire a shot into the air if any of Bartalotti’s boys go to investigate?”

“Of course,” Hana glanced at the sticks of dynamite, “How strong are each of these?”

“If we can detonate them in the doorway, it’ll blow a hole in the wall and maybe even cause the second story to collapse a bit,” Jesse said, “Where did you get those? The surgeon?”

Blondie chuckled, “Giordani had them. I wonder what Bartalotti was planning.”

“I suspect that we’ll never find out,” Hana said, picking up one of the sticks and inspecting it.

The three settled down in Blondie’s room, waiting for the sun to go down.

________________________________________

Hana sat by the window of her room, her gun sitting in her lap. Her heart had been beating faster than usual, and she was fighting the urge to pace around. Bartalotti’s men had gone inside once the sun had set, and nobody had left the building since.

She took a deep breath, looking down at the gun. She had fired the gun a total of eighteen times, to practice her aim; though she’d only ever fired at rocks and cans. While she had known her father carried around a personal piece, she’d never asked her father if he had ever had cause to use it. It was a tool made for the sole purpose of taking lives, and the path Hana had set herself on would require her to use it sooner or later.

The door to the room opened, and Hana grabbed her gun, her hands a blur, as she stood up. Jesse walked into the room and Hana immediately lowered the gun, muttering an apology.

Jesse chuckled, “Naw, that was the fastest I’ve ever seen you move, and you didn’t shoot me,” he nodded at the window, “I noticed nobody was outside.”

Hana slid the gun into place against her hip, “They went inside a few minutes after you guys left, and nobody else has exited the office.”

Jesse hummed, “Okay, let’s get moving,” he stopped by her side, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Are you feeling ready?”

Hana looked up at Jesse, who had a concerned look as he lowered his hand. She clenched a fist and gave him a nod, “What’s the plan?”

Jesse opened the door, holding it open for Hana, “We’ll explain downstairs.” She stepped out, and the pair moved downstairs and out the back of the inn. Blondie was smoking a cigarillo while arming the blasting caps, he had a Sharps Carbine strapped to his back in addition to his pistol. Strewn at his feet were three corpses, the deputies’ throats were slit and the sheriff had been stabbed through the heart. Hana stared at the bodies, frowning slightly at the blood.

Blondie tossed the cigarillo to the ground, then started hiding the sticks of dynamite on the corpses. “Is there a problem, Miss Song?” he said, not looking away from the bodies.

Hana shook her head, “N-no sorry. I’m just not used to seeing dead bodies.” She tapped the leg of the sheriff with her toe, “I suppose it’s just a pile of meat and bones now.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Jesse said, “Okay, so Blondie is gonna drag the corpses up to Bartalotti’s door then shoot a shot into the sky to get his attention. I’ll be hiding at the side of the building, so they won’t see me. Once some men come outside to investigate I’ll throw the firebomb at the bodies, and we’ll storm in guns blazing.”

“What about me?” Hana said, turning her attention away from the bodies.

“While we’re getting into position, could you sneak to the back of his building and ambush anyone who tries to escape?” Jesse pulled his gun out and started inspecting it, “I’m worried O’Deorain will try to make a run for it.”

Blondie tied a rope to the legs of each of the bodies then grunted as he started to drag them, leaving a trail of blood as he moved. Jesse picked up the alcohol and rag, soaking the rag in the alcohol before stuffing it into the bottle and using the bottle’s stopper to keep it in place. “Get into position,” he said, giving Hana a reassuring smile.

Hana nodded then started walking through the town, taking a wide path around the inn to the back of the mayor’s office. Hana smelled the outhouse before she saw it. After some brief debate, she decided it was likely going to be the best cover she got that night, and hid behind it.

________________________________________

Out front Blondie took a deep breath once the corpses were in place; usually working in a group meant that he didn’t have to move multiple corpses around at once. He turned the sheriff’s body, so the dynamite was harder to find, then stepped back into the street, moving all the way back to the inn’s entrance.

He fired a shot into the air and quickly reloaded it as lamps were lit in the building. After a minute he could hear Bartalotti yelling to his men, then the door opened and four men came out, stepping over the corpses.

El Paso Red stood in front of the other men and scowled at Blondie, “You’re a dead man this time, the boss told us to bring you in.”

Blondie reached into his pocket, and the four men reached for their guns, relaxing when he pulled out a cigarillo. He placed it in his mouth, then grabbed a match and flicked his thumb against it, starting the flame.

“What the hell are you doing?” El Paso Red said, spit flying out of his mouth, “You think you can come into our town, kill our men and just get away with it?”

Blondie blew smoke out, keeping the cigarillo in his mouth, “Here I figured I could have a quick smoke before meeting with your boss.”

The men started to advance and Jesse stepped out from the side of the building, the rag already on fire. He threw the bottle at the corpses, then dove back into cover. The men stumbled, two distracted by Jesse, and another trying to figure out what was flying through the air at them. The firebomb hit the ground next to the corpses with a shatter and the world exploded.

Blondie shielded his face with his arms as the hot air from the blast blew past him. The remains of seven men were strewn across the street and the building had a huge hole where the door used to be. Inside Blondie could see that parts of the second story had started to collapse down, crushing another one of Bartalotti’s men. The fire from the alcohol was starting to spread around the outside of the building. He drew his rifle and charged into the building, joined by Jesse who had his Peacemaker in his hand.

________________________________________

The fireball from the explosion rose into the air and Hana looked at it in awe. Whoever had been near the front of the building was certainly dead, and anyone else in the building was probably disoriented.

The door to the outhouse slammed open as a man stumbled forward, trying to pull his pants up as he moved. He swore repeatedly when he saw the torrent of flame, eventually managing to buckle his belt up. Hana clutched her pistol with both hands and stepped out from behind the outside, lining up a shot. She had no idea someone was inside the outhouse, whoever this person was, they took care of their business alarmingly quietly.

The man didn’t even notice Hana as she fired three times. The first shot hit him in the back, causing him to stagger forward.  The second and third ripped through his heart, killing him before he hit the ground.

Hana stood completely still, smoke trailing from the barrel of her gun. She panted, staring at the lifeless body on the ground, her thoughts racing through her head faster than she could process them.

________________________________________

Jesse was hidden behind an overturned table near the hole in the wall. The table shielded him from the stairs, where three men were firing at the intruders. Across the room Blondie was tucked next to liquor cabinet, trying to line up a shot without exposing himself. Behind him the fire had started to calm down, unable to catch onto the stone parts of the building.

Jesse crouched down, steeling himself for his next move, then made a mad dash across the room. The men on the stairs immediately focused their attention onto Jesse. Bullets barely missed him as he slid behind a couch. Blondie stepped out from cover and fired three precise shots, killing all three instantly.

Jesse stood up, keeping his eyes on the stairs, “Bartalotti’s hiding upstairs with the rest of his men. I think he knows that the fire won’t spread much more.”

“We can fix that,” Blondie grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started stuffing his handkerchief into it. Jesse saw what he was doing, and did the same. They created four more firebombs, then threw them into each corner of the room they were in. The fire roared to life, and they both ran out front, watching the entrance carefully.

Outside townsfolk had started to gather, watching the chaos. Nobody moved to help Bartalotti, however. This fight belonged to him, not to Dusty Bellows.

Above them one of the windows on the second story shattered as a shotgun fired through it, then Bartalotti leaped out of the building, firing at Blondie as he crashed to the ground. Blondie dove to the side, barely avoiding the spray of shots, and Jesse unloaded on Bartalotti as he hit the ground with an audible crack from his legs.

Bartalotti let out a roar, struggling to stand, as the bullets ripped through his chest. He turned and wildly fired at Jesse, clipping his leg. Jesse spun as he was hit, firing again as he fell. His aim was true, and the bullet tore a new hole in Bartalotti’s head.

Blondie kept his focus on the building, firing on anyone that tried to leave. Screaming started to come from inside as fire started to consume the building.

Jesse forced himself to his feet, “I’m gonna check on Hana, you good out here?”

Blondie nodded, and Jesse started moving as fast as he could to the back of the building.

________________________________________

The back door to the building slammed open, and a wall of smoke spread out into the air. A man staggered out, coughing and waving his hat in front of him. He stopped when he saw Hana, who still had her gun in her hand. She fired before he could respond to her presence, hitting him in the gut and sending him falling back to the ground.

Hana moved back to her cover, watching the door. Once she was back behind the outhouse a tall figure strolled out of the building, looking around. Hana peered around the side of the outhouse, looking at who had just come out. She couldn’t immediately tell the person’s gender, but the fire illuminated the area, showing that the figure was pale with bright orange hair. It was definitely Moira.

Moira glanced down at the groaning man below her, sparing him a look of disgust as she stepped over him. He slumped over with one last moan, and died. Hana slowed her breathing, trying not to make a sound as she watched Moira advance.

Hana had two more bullets left, she’d have to make both of them count. She ran out of her cover, trying to level her shot. As if possessed by a spirit, Moira’s arm snapped from her side, firing her revolved. The bullet whizzed just over Hana’s head, knocking her father’s hat to the ground.

 Hana fired, hitting Moira’s arm. The revolver clattered to the ground, and Moira swore, diving down for it. Hana slid towards Moira, kicking the revolver away from both of them, then pointed her piece at Moira, “Hands up, O’Deorain,” she said.

Moira raised her hands above her head with a snarl. Hana stood up, taking a few steps back from Moira, “Okay, turn around and put your hands behind your back. Slowly, okay?”

Moira obliged, making sure Hana could see the insides of her palms as she placed her hands behind her back. As Hana was about to move to bind her hands behind her back, Jesse appeared, gun in hand. He lowered the gun, blinking at Moira, “You got her?” he said. Jesse looked around, seeing the two corpses, along with Hana’s hat on the ground next to her with a hole in it, “Looks like you were pretty lucky.”

“I was able to get the drop on her when she tried to escape the building,” Hana stood still, keeping her gun leveled at Moira, “Could you bind her hands?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Jesse procured a pair of cuffs and handcuffed Moira, who was keeping quiet. While he did that, Hana knelt down, picking up her father’s hat and brushing the dust off of it. The two dragged Moira to the front of the building, where Blondie was surrounded by the corpses of the people who had tried escaping the fire.

He gave them a curt nod when he saw Moira, then glanced around at the crowd, “It might be best if we leave the town tonight.”

Jesse followed his gaze, “Hana could you get our horses?”

Hana nodded then ran to the back of the inn, untying Meka, Durango and Blondie’s mule. She led them to Jesse and Blondie, who threw Moira over the back of Durango, then hopped on their horses. The three galloped out of the town, leaving the blazing inferno behind them.


	6. Ecstasy of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio learn the story of Akande and Talon.

The trio came to a stop about three miles north of Dusty Bellows, and set up camp. They tied a loop around Moira’s waist, tying the other end of the rope to a cactus, while her hands were handcuffed in front of her. Twenty feet away the trio was circled around a fire pit they’d dug, where Jesse was trying to start a fire.

Hana kept looking back at Moira, who stared blankly towards the horizon. “I know that I’m the one that caught her, but what do we do with her?” she said softly, so Moira wouldn’t overhear.

“Aha!” Jesse exclaimed once fire caught onto the tinder and started to spread. He looked between Hana and Blondie then muttered an apology, standing up, “First we need to get her to talk.”

“I reckon she’ll be eager to sell out her friends if it means we don’t kill her,” Blondie held his hands out to the fire, warming them.

Moira knelt down, adjusting her boots. There was a slight glint as she sat back up, and Hana narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what she’d seen, before turning back to her companions, “She’s dead no matter what though. Dusty Bellows will hang her if they catch her, and we’re in the middle of the desert so there aren’t any other towns she could walk to before thirst takes her.”

Blondie nodded, “It might be mercy to shoot her.”

“That don’t sit right with me,” Jesse took off his hat, scratching his head.

“No matter what happens, I think this is the end of Miss O’Deorain,” Hana frowned.

“She deserves it,” Blondie said.

Hana looked at Blondie, “Dying of thirst is a cruel way to die, Blondie.”

Jesse shook his head, “It ain’t nowhere near as cruel as some of her experiments. I won’t say anymore, since I’d like to be able to sleep tonight.”

The three stared at the fire, none sure what to say. Finally Blondie pulled out a cigarillo and lit it, “Let’s have a word with her. I’ll give her my water flask and cut her loose if she talks.”

“That ain’t much, but it’s probably the best she’ll get,” Jesse put his hat back on, “You wanna do the talkin’, Blondie?”

Blondie nodded, and the three approached Moira.

“Ah, so you’ve finally decided to grace me with conversation?” she said.

Blondie stopped three feet from Moira, towering over her. Jesse and Hana flanked Blondie, dark expressions covering their faces. “You’re a woman of medicine, right?” Blondie said, blowing smoke out to his side.

“That I am, Mister?”

Blondie shook his head, “That means you know what’ll happen to that arm if we don’t clean it up,” he gestured towards Moira’s gunshot wound.

“A man with no name? Oh I’ve heard stories about you,” Moira scowled, looking at her arm, “It’ll likely get infected.”

Blondie nodded, grabbing his flask and his revolver and holding both up, “The three of us would like to talk a bit. If that goes well, we’ll cut you free and give you this,” he held the flask towards Moira, “If it doesn’t, well, you’ve got three more limbs without bullets in ‘em.”

“It seems I haven’t been left much of a choice in this matter,” Moira looked between the three stopping on Hana, “Could you possibly be the daughter of that Korean man from Agua Fria?” she said, studying Hana.

Hana slowly nodded, her jaw clenched.

“Your father kept a picture of you behind the counter of his store,” Moira chuckled loudly, “How very amusing. Do you think yourself a hero, chasing after your father’s killers,” her expression shifted into a glare. Hana returned the glare, pushing her poncho aside slightly on the right side so Moira could see her father’s piece.

“How very brave of you, girl,” Moira hissed, “Tell me, do you feel powerful intimidating an unarmed prisoner? Remember, if you weren’t so short you’d be burning in hell with your father right now.”

Hana’s fists clenched so tightly her knuckles started to turn white. Jesse glanced over at Hana, fighting the urge to comfort her, then back to Moira, “Miss O’Deorain,” he flashed an insincere smile, “That’s how you get yourself shot again.”

“Very well, what shall we talk about?” Moira steepled her hands together, as she leaned back and sat up straight.

“Where’s Talon headed?” Blondie said.

“Hmm, Lacroix has taken about fifty of our men to raid the town of Fairchappel.”

“That’s a farming village, what business could Talon possibly have with farmers?” Jesse stepped forward.

Moira smiled, “We need supplies and fall is coming soon.”

Jesse grit his teeth, “You bastards,” he turned away, walking back to the fire and pulling out his map.

“Okay, but what about Reyes and Akande?” Hana said.

“Are we still obsessed with revenge, little girl?”

Blondie pulled out his gun and fired, sending a bullet through Moira’s leg. She screamed in pain, shooting him a dirty look. He shrugged in response, “We did warn you. That’s how you get shot.”

Moira took a deep breath, wincing. “The rest of Talon is headed north, towards the Grand Canyon.”

Jesse glanced back, folding the map up, “Now why would they be headin’ there?” He turned, “Actually, Akande’s been in Arizona for almost ten years now. What’s he doin’ here?”

“That story takes a long time to tell, Ranger,” Moira said, wincing, “I’ll need to clear my throat a touch.”

Blondie tossed the flask at her feet, “We’ll patch you up after.”

Moira almost emptied the flask in one go, pouring what was left of the water over her leg to wash away the blood. “Now,” she said, “Where to begin?”

________________________________________

The story of Talon starts with the man that was Akande Ogunimu’s mentor, Akinjide Adeyemi. Akinjide was one of the Yoruba people, kidnapped in the year 1835 as a young boy. He was taken to America, where he was bounced between auctions, until a slave owner named Leonardo Bennet purchased him for seven hundred dollars in the state of Alabama.

Bennet was a man of sadistic taste, and he’d eyed Akinjide because of his muscular build. When he was younger Bennet had been fond of watching boxing, but he’d always felt like something was missing. It was when he watched a slave get beaten to death for striking his master that Bennet realized what had been missing, and he started buying the toughest slaves he could find, making them fight in bloody battles to the death. And in Akinjide, he’d found a new champion.

Akinjide fought dozens of his brothers, quickly establishing a brutal reputation. It seemed that nobody could touch him, and he earned the title of Doomfist for his prowess. Bennet’s fondness of Akinjide meant that Akinjide would spend time with him in his personal office. Bennet was also fond of bourbon, and would often pass out drunk while talking to Akinjide. It was here Bennet made a mistake: the thought had never occurred to him that Akinjide might be able to read. So Akinjide spent his time pouring through all the books in Bennet’s office. He also sifted through Bennet’s records, and it was likely that Akinjide knew more about Bennet’s finances than Bennet himself.

Then, in 1846, Bennet purchased Akande Ogunimu, an eighteen year old boy from Nigeria. Nobody knows why Akinjide took such a deep liking to the young Akande, but he begged Bennet to let him take Akande on as his apprentice; arguing that Bennet would be better served by having two champion fighters. Bennet agreed on the condition that Akande also continue his work in the fields, and so his training began.

While Bennet watched, Akinjide taught young Akande how to fight. They made a show of sparring, grappling each other in mock battles for hours as their master looked on. In privacy Akande was tutored on history, law and tactics, as Akinjide knew that if they were ever to escape, they would need both a strong mind and body to survive.

Then, one day in the spring of 1852, Akinjide and Bennet travelled to another plantation for a fight. It was here that Akinjide saw what might be his only chance, so he dragged the fight out, knowing that the masters always drank during the fights. He danced with his poor opponent for almost an hour, never hitting him hard enough to knock him out. Then, once both the masters were drunk, both fighters turned on them.

Nobody knows what exactly happened in that room, but the stories said that Bennet’s screaming could be heard from the next town over.

Akinjide escaped, fleeing to California. However, Akande wasn’t so fortunate. Bennet’s slaves were auctioned off and scattered throughout the south, and Akande found his new home in Mississippi. There he kept his head down, staying aware of the happenings of the world and waiting for his chance.

In 1861 the Civil War started, though Akande knew that it was too soon for him to attempt his escape. He continued to wait, until on the first of January in 1863 President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. On that fateful day, Akande knew his new life would begin, and he escaped, wandering the South hunting down slave owners. While he used guns to fight, he always beat the slave owners to death with his hands, and so the title of Doomfist passed from mentor to student. His story started to spread through the South and with it, fear; the masters’ day of reckoning had come.

The legend of the second Doomfist spread all the way to Arizona, where Akinjide had settled down in the town of Redpoint. He wrote his old student, eager to see him again, though Akande was more interested in the story the letter told. Akinjide had struck gold in California. So much gold that he couldn’t even begin to estimate its worth, and he’d hidden it in Arizona in the town of Supai.

Akande arrived in Redpoint in time to see Akinjide hanged for raping a white woman. Akande fled the town, deciding that he’d try to find his mentor’s fortune; however no map he could find had Supai on it, and nobody seemed to be able to recall a town with such a name.

Eventually his search led him to a brothel in the town of Yuma. The mistress of the brothel was a young Mexican woman named Olivia Colomar, who ran multiple such businesses throughout Arizona and California. See, the way she saw things, there were two things that were certain to get men talking: liquor, or the chance to impress a woman. And her establishments had both in droves. One of Olivia’s clients had been from the town of Redpoint, and he had a fascinating tale he’d shared with Olivia’s girl. He was married to the woman that Akinjide had been hanged for raping, though from what he’d said neither her nor Akinjide had so much as exchanged a word. Rather, Akinjide had given her a dirty look after she bumped into him on the road, so she and her husband decided to lie to the town.

When Olivia told him the truth about his mentor’s fate, rage started to consume Akande. He was a man who had always lived with anger, but never before had it controlled him like it did in that moment. Akande immediately rode to Redpoint, carrying every weapon he could get his hands on, and turned the town into a funeral pyre for Akinjide.

As Akande watched the town burn, he felt no satisfaction. His anger was still there, burning just as hot as the flames that took Redpoint. It was then he realized the true source of his anger: America. A country of freedom that enslaved millions. A country built by immigrants that abused Chinese and Irish workers. It was then he swore that America would become a land of conflict, never again to know peace. He rode back to Yuma, and told Olivia about his mentor’s treasure and his anger. Olivia found herself sympathetic to his rage, and the two joined forces, forming Talon.

They set to expanding their gang’s ranks, quickly recruiting an Irish doctor with a sadistic love of human experimenting and a self-made widow from France. In 1868 Akande recruited Gabriel Reyes, a ruthless veteran of the Civil War, to their cause. Though, no matter how much they expanded, the town of Supai was nowhere to be found. This was, until Olivia met a man from the Havasupai tribe. He told her that Supai was a village located in the Grand Canyon, where the Havasupai people lived.

And so, Talon set off north, finally knowing where Akinjide’s fortune was hidden.

________________________________________

Moira cleared her throat after she finished telling her story, then held the flask out, “A refill, if I might.”

Blondie tossed his cigarillo to the ground, stepping on it, then took the flask from Moira, “I’m a man of my word.” He moved back to the horses, and refilled the flask. Hana kept quiet, walking off to the side slightly.

“Fairchappel ain’t too far off,” Jesse said, “I reckon if we ride hard we’ll be there within three days.”

Blondie gave Jesse a nod, then walked back to Moira, moving around her and untying the rope that tied her to the cactus. Moira turned, holding her arms up and jingling the handcuffs at him. Blondie procured the key, then tossed it at Moira. Moira caught the key and freed herself, rubbing her wrists once she was free. Blondie narrowed his eyes at her, nodding towards the horizon.

A knife suddenly appeared in Moira’s hand as she lunged towards Blondie. Blondie’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, hand starting for his hip, when a gunshot tore through Moira’s chest.

Moira’s mouth fell agape, and she coughed out blood. She looked to the side, where Hana stood tall, her gun in hand and her eyes filled with hate. Before anyone could respond Hana fired again and again and again, sending Moira flying back to the ground. Hana stepped forward, standing over Moira. Moira’s breathing was faint and raspy, and she looked up at Hana with a fearful look. Hana snarled and continued to fire, even after her gun was out of ammo.

Blondie looked over at Jesse, who started running towards Hana, “Hana!” he yelled. Hana paid him no heed, continuing to uselessly pull the trigger of her gun. He called her name again, before sliding to a stop by her side, and forcibly grabbing her arm, “Hana, she’s dead.”

Hana stared blankly at Jesse, who pulled her into an embrace, “She’s dead. Let’s just take a minute okay?” he said.

Hana’s arms fell limp by her side, and her gun clattered to the ground. Once Jesse released her, she collapsed to her knees.

The first of her father’s killers had been brought to justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one more day before school starts up, so I'll probably slow down a bit once that happens. My personal goal is for a chapter every one to two weeks. We'll see though.


	7. A Ronin Comes to Fairchappel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trio rides to the town of Fairchappel, hoping to stop Talon. Meanwhile a Japanese vagabond wanders the desert with no destination in mind.

A young Japanese man walked east along a road deep in the Sonoran desert, whistling a listless tune. He wore a pair of dirty overalls and a green plaid shirt, with a wide brimmed hat to shield his face from the sun. A dark brown glove was worn on his left hand, though his right hand was uncovered. On his right hip was a Smith and Wesson Model 3 revolver, and slung over his back was a coach gun, similar to the type that Wells Fargo used to protect their stagecoaches. He had thick black eyebrows, and dark brown eyes, with a clean-shaven face. The man had the lean build of someone used to physical labor.

The road the man strolled along came to a fork, and he stopped, his whistling becoming an inquisitive hum. He studied both paths, before kneeling down and picking up a stick that was resting on the ground ahead of him. He tossed the stick in the air, stepping back, and letting it clatter onto the road. The stick pointed towards the left branch of the fork.

He started his whistling again, following the left road.

________________________________________

In the center of his town Mayor Johnson of Fairchappel stood next to a well, surrounded by fifty heavily armed men on horses. The townsfolk hid in their homes, peeking through cracked doors or peering through windows. Also in the center of the ring of horses was a woman atop a pale white mare. She had sharp features, with long dark hair tied back into a ponytail, and piercing yellow eyes. A Winchester Model 1873 sat in her lap, over her brown striped day dress. She sneered down at the mayor from under a hat that had a blue handkerchief tied to it.

It took every bit of Johnson’s nerve to not tremble in his boots as he talked, “Miss Lacroix, I implore you, if we give you what you’re asking for, the town won’t have anything to eat. We’ll all starve.”

Amelie slowly looked at her men, “And what of us? Do you not care that we will starve too?”

“I-I-I,” Johnson stammered, taking off his hand and wiping sweat from his brow.

“You, you, you?” Amelie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Tell me, Mayor, are you married?”

Johnson paused, looking around before nodding.

Amelie’s finger traced along her rifle, “Your wife will thank me then,” she grabbed the rifle and gunned the mayor down. She fired another shot into the air, then rode out of the circle, towards the entrance of the town, coming to a stop by the archway that proudly declared the town’s name, “We’ll be back in a week. You’d best have our food by then,” she yelled.

The fifty one horses thundered as they galloped out of the valley Fairchappel sat in, leaving a cloud of despair over the town.

________________________________________

It was the day after the trio’s shootout at Dusty Bellows. They’d ridden hard through the day, racing towards Fairchappel. Hana had been uncharacteristically quiet, and Blondie was never one for talking, so the day had passed in relative silence.

Jesse pulled his horse to a stop when he saw the sun start to approach the horizon in the west. They found a small outcrop, setting up camp under the rocks. Hana settled next to a rock, taking her hat off and wrapping her arms around her knees, staring into the sky. Blondie untied the pot he’d attached to his saddle earlier in the morning, undoing the string that he’d used to tie the lid down. Inside the pot pinto beans had been soaking all day, and now they were ready to cook. He knelt down, arranging tinder and firewood, then set to starting a cooking fire.

Jesse pulled out a can of condensed milk, figuring that he was in the mood for something sweet after dinner, setting it down next to Blondie. Blondie nodded towards Hana, “One of us will have to talk to her eventually.”

“It’s gonna be me, ain’t it?” Jesse said, halfheartedly grinning.

Blondie nodded, draining the water from the pot.

“What the hell do I say?” Jesse pulled his hat off, setting it down on the ground, then taking a seat next to Blondie.

Blondie pulled out two cigarillos, offering one to Jesse, “What was it like for you?”

Jesse took the cigarillo, “When I first killed someone?”

Blondie nodded, leaning just close enough to the fire to light his cigarillo.

Jesse considered imitating him, before deciding that he’d rather not risk burning his beard off and settled for striking a match. He rubbed his chin as he inhaled, remembering the first time he’d gone after a bounty with Reyes.

Blondie studied Jesse’s expression, seeing Jesse start to frown slightly. “I might have misspoke,” Blondie exhaled smoke towards the stars, “What do you think you needed to hear after it happened?” Blondie started pouring fresh water into the pot, stopping once it was two inches above the beans. He added salt and chili powder, setting the pot over the fire.

Jesse stood up, brushing the dust off his pants, “Thanks.”

Blondie leaned back, closing his eyes, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

Jesse walked over to Hana and sat down next to her, making sure there was some space between them. He followed her gaze up to the sky, “Unless you found some strange herbs to smoke, I doubt you’ll find anything new up there.”

Hana remained silent, not even looking away from the sky.

Jesse looked back down at Hana, then to her holster, “That was your father’s gun right?”

Hana nodded.

Jesse sighed, realizing that he might have to talk for both of them. “That’s gotta be a custom piece,” he pulled his Peacemaker out, “Looks a bit similar to mine, except for the grip and the barrel.”

Hana pulled the gun out and handed it to Jesse.

Jesse took the gun, studying it. Hana had taken meticulous care of the gun; Jesse suspected that she was better at cleaning guns than he was. Not too surprising for the daughter of a gunsmith. The trigger’s pull weight had been lowered slightly, though Jesse wasn’t sure if Hana or her father had done that. He pointed the gun towards a cactus, looking through the sights at a flower on the tip of one of the cactus’ arms, and fired, blowing the flower away.

“I might have to ask you to start doin’ the maintenance for my gun,” he said, handing Hana her gun back.

Hana holstered the gun, looking away from Jesse.

“Y’know they always say that it ain’t easy takin’ a life, but I never thought that was true,” Jesse scooted closer to Hana, “Human lives are alarmingly fragile. It’s all too easy to take one. What’s hard is livin’ with it afterwards.” He took a breath, “I can promise you one thing. The fact that this is hittin’ you as hard as it is is a good sign. Means that you’ve got a conscience worryin’ about doing the right thing.”

Jesse rested one hand against the ground, using the other to smoke, “I’ll be honest, I’m really hoping you start talkin’ soon, cause I’m runnin’ outta things to say.”

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Hana mumbled.

“Don’t be, you seem the type to get lost in your thoughts easily. Just remember to come back every so often; it gets lonely when Blondie’s my only company,”

Hana let out a slight exhale, “Well then I truly am sorry for abandoning you to Blondie’s silence.”

Jesse chuckled, “I hope I never suffer such torment again.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly, “Is there anything you wanna talk about, Hana?”

“I miss him.”

“Pardon?”

“My father,” Hana looked back down.

“Oh,” Jesse thought back to when he’d lost his own father, then pulled Hana closer.

Hana leaned against Jesse, “I mean, I know that death is a part of life. And I know that life will keep going on, and that I’ll feel happy again one day. But every morning I wake up and I remember that he’s gone. He’ll never see me finish my studies,” Hana wiped her eyes with her sleeve, clenching her fist, “He’ll never see me get married, or find a job, or start a family. I’m going to live an entire life that he won’t be there for.”

She looked up at Jesse, eyes wet but filled with conviction, “And I know that killing Reyes won’t bring him back, hell it’ll barely bring me satisfaction. But I can’t stand the idea of that son of a bitch hurting someone else like he’s hurt me.”

Jesse nodded, extinguishing his cigarillo. Hana pulled her father’s gun back out of its holster, smiling slightly at it, “I remember when he first started working on this. He’d come to visit me in Pennsylvania at the start of the year, when Colt first released the Single Action Armies. He bought one, and we immediately started looking for the flaws, so we could figure out what he needed to replace. I think that was the most excited I’d ever seen him.”

“It’s a fine piece,” Jesse said, “Damn fine. One of the best weapons I’ve ever fired.”

“You can tell that after shootin’ it once?”

Jesse chuckled, “Don’t go droppin’ your g’s, Hana. You won’t be able to adjust back to city life.”

Hana nudged Jesse with an elbow, “Thank you, Jesse. I know you had no reason to take a young girl along on your mission to destroy Talon.”

Jesse shook his head, “It’s your mission. Blondie and I are just the lucky bastards that get to tag along.”

Hana wiped her eyes again, then stood up, “You’re giving me too much credit, Jesse.”

“You ain’t giving yourself enough,” Jesse stood up too, grabbing Hana’s hat on the way up, “Listen, your father won’t always be with you, but the values and lessons he imparted upon you will be. If he was even half the person that you are, then the world is worse off without him.” He put her hat on her, “Destroyin’ Talon might come close to evenin’ things up a bit, in a karmic sense.”

Hana adjusted the hat, making sure it sat on her head properly, “We’d best make sure I’m ready for that.”

Jesse nodded, “Oh, uhh, I’ve got something I wanted you to take a look at. I found it yesterday on O’Deorain, but I figured you needed space.” He pulled a letter out of his pocket, handing it to Hana, “It looks like complete gibberish.”

Hana opened the letter, studying the seemingly random assortment of letters, “Or it’s a code.”

“That’s what I’m hopin’,” Jesse peered over Hana’s shoulder at the letter, “I can’t even begin to think how to break it though.”

“Well, if we assume that the cipher doesn’t change based on the position in the message, we can look for the most common letter and assume that it’s e. I’ve got some other methods I can try too,” Hana stared at the letter, “I wonder what it says.”

“Come study it by the fire, it’ll be warmer,” Jesse walked back next to Blondie, who was snoring slightly. Hana giggled, and sat down across from Jesse, writing on the ground as she read.

________________________________________

The Japanese vagabond’s path took him past a stretch of farmland, which led into a valley. He could see a small town nestled at the heart of the valley, along with dozens of riders coming hard, led by a woman with a rifle slung over her back.

He stepped to the side of the road, pulling his hat down as they galloped by and counting. Once the last passed him, he counted fifty one. He continued towards the town, wondering what business the cavalry could have possibly had. As he passed under the sign marked Fairchappel he could hear a commotion coming from the town’s center.

The townsfolk had gathered around the well in the center of the town, and one man towered over all the rest. He was almost the size of two men, with a deep scar running across his left eye, which had clouded over. His white hair was combed back, and he kept a neatly trimmed beard. “Let’s say we give them what they want, then what?” the man bellowed, “We starve to death in the winter? We can’t afford to buy supplies, and we know better than to rely on the charity of strangers. No. We must stand and fight!”

The crowd started to murmur agreements, and a cheer was sounded. People towards the edge of the crowd started to notice the stranger, and the message was relayed towards the center. A man whose hair had only started to grey on the sides stepped forward, “Reinhardt,” he softly said.

“What is it, Doctor?” Reinhardt followed the crowd’s looks, noticing the Japanese man, and started to advance. The people of the town parted, letting him walk up directly in front of the stranger, “And what could your business be with Fairchappel, friend?” Reinhardt said with enough edge in his voice for the stranger to know what ‘friend’ really meant.

“I am Genji Shimada,” Genji bowed his head, “A traveler; just passing through.” He glanced back towards where he’d came from, “And what was their business?”

Reinhardt extended a hand, “Apologies for my tone. I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. I’m Reinhardt Wilhelm.” He spat on the ground after Genji shook his hand, “Those cowards came to our town and demanded that we hand over enough crops to feed their gang for the winter. Their leader killed our mayor when we refused.”

Genji looked at the townsfolk, uncertain what to say.

“You’d best be making your way out of here. It’s not safe in Fairchappel,” Reinhardt clapped Genji on the back, nearly knocking him over, “There’s a road that heads west, towards California,” he pointed towards the setting sun.

Genji stroked his chin, mulling things over for a moment. “I’m a fair shot, though not the best. But I’ve been in a few fights and here I am to tell the tale,” he nodded at Reinhardt, “That is, if you’ll take my services.”

“And what would you want for your services?”

“How’s room and board for as long as I’m in the town?”

Reinhardt grinned and clapped him on the back again, this time sending Genji to a knee. “Very good Mister Shimada! You can stay with me.”

Genji wobbled back to his feet, in awe of Reinhardt’s strength, “Thank you.”

The man with greying hair walked through the crowd, tilting his head. Reinhardt turned, gesturing for Genji to shake his hand, “This is my dear friend Harold Winston. He’s keeps our town healthy and fit.”

Harold extended a hand, “I try my best.”

Genji shook it, “How many able bodied fighters do you have?”

Reinhardt turned to the town, “Those of you who wish to fight, stay. The rest, could you gather weapons and supplies that might aid in the defense of the town? We will have to fortify.”

The townsfolk started to shuffle around, the young and elderly moving to their houses. Twenty two men and women remained at the end, and Reinhardt surveyed them, giving a somber look, “We all know what’s at stake here. For now I’ll get Mister Shimada settled, we’ll meet tomorrow morning at dawn to start planning.”

Reinhardt and Genji walked to the edge of town, near the fields, where a stone cottage sat alone. Before they entered Reinhardt stopped, looking down at Genji, “Might I ask why you volunteered to help, Mister Shimada?”

“Genji is fine, and I’m still not completely sure myself.”

“Well, you can still leave any time you want, Genji. We’ll all understand. You have no stake in this fight,” Reinhardt opened the door to his cottage.

Genji shook his head, “No, I do. Any decent man would have a stake in this fight.”

Reinhardt grinned, “We’ll drink to that tonight! Would you like to try the ale I brewed?”

Genji smiled, “I would love that.” He followed Reinhardt into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot of creative help from two of my friends, Buttons and Snek. Thanks nerds.


End file.
